


Infatuated

by howboutinotdothis



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Suicide Attempt, alana will come in soon i swear, also because zoe is very important and she and evan are bros, because evan deserves friends and support okay, evan is in zoe's grade instead of connor's because his mom held him back in preschool, i don't like larry i'm sorry, idk man i'm tired, probably super ooc sorry, revolves around zoe/evan friendship, they're like childhood friends or whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-13 18:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10519314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howboutinotdothis/pseuds/howboutinotdothis
Summary: Zoe has been encouraging his smartass behavior since they first met in elementary school and he made an awkward joke because Zoe Murphy was this cool, awesome girl who could get the swing to go higher than any other kids in his grade could and Evan was the kid who once got hit in the face by the rubber kickball and spent the rest of recess that day crying behind an oak tree.





	1. Evan Hansen Is a Doofus: A Novel by Zoe Murphy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything’s okay with Zoe around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo so I started another multichapter DEH fic because why not ya know
> 
> pls leave comments/crit/kudos or whatevs because it helps keep me motivated to write and it also helps me see if my characterization is okay/people like the plot. suggestions are welcome too!

“Move over, doofus,” Zoe says, not unkindly, holding her Macbook that still has the glow in the dark star stickers Evan gave her for her seventh birthday and gesturing for him to move over so he isn’t taking up her entire bed. He scoots over a few inches, leaving her just enough room to lie down on the bed beside him, setting her laptop in front of them both so they can watch whatever YouTube video she’s decided is required viewing.

“Okay, so, you know how Mrs. S told us to figure out what topic we want to do our psych project on?”

“I was in class on Wednesday, so, yeah.”

Zoe gives Evan a _look_ —or, to be more precise, the Zoe Murphy “stop being a sarcastic shit, Ev” _look_ , patent pending. He looks away, the creeping feeling of guilt rolling in. Evan knows he shouldn’t feel bad about being a smartass sometimes with Zoe; Zoe has been encouraging his smartass behavior since they first met in elementary school and he made an awkward joke because Zoe Murphy was this cool, awesome girl who could get the swing to go higher than any other kids in his grade could and Evan was the kid who once got hit in the face by the rubber kickball and spent the rest of recess that day crying behind an oak tree. As comfortable as he is with Zoe, it’s still hard to be—well, you know. It’s hard to be a normal adolescent boy. And his worsening social anxiety hasn’t been making the whole coming-of-age part of his life any easier.

“C’mon, Ev. Get out of your head. You can daydream about sexy tree times later.”

“What are—I’m sorry, what—sexy tree times, Zoe, really?”

“Dude, I don’t know what you’re into. You know, besides my brother.”

“ _Zoe_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoe waves off Evan’s panicked look at her open bedroom door. “No boy talk when people can hear. Sorry, bro.”

Evan’s crush on Zoe’s older brother wouldn’t exactly be news to anybody in the Murphy household. That ship sailed when he was eight and he gave Connor this lame as hell valentine complete with an abundance of red and silver glitter and googly eyes for some unknown reason. Evan guesses his eight-year-old self was just really into googly eyes at the time. Granted, Zoe’s parents and Connor probably think Evan got over his infatuation sometime in the past nine years.

And, that’s what it is—not attraction, not affection, just infatuation. A short-lived admiration. Just Evan looking up to someone he’s probably supposed to think of as an older brother. He still remembers the feeling of Mr. Murphy’s hand on his shoulder as he explained why Evan shouldn’t be going around giving other boys valentines. It would give them the wrong idea, you know? There’s a difference between liking someone and _liking_ someone, and Mr. Murphy tried his damnedest to explain that difference to Evan.

There are very few things Evan will admit Mr. Murphy is wrong about, and his claim that Evan didn’t _like_ Connor is one of them.

“S’fine,” Evan mumbles, even though it’s not fine, not really. Zoe’s house has been a second home to him for almost a decade now, and the fact that there’s this part of himself he knows they’d _hate_ is…well, upsetting seems too light a word for it. “What does this have to do with our psych project?” He asks. Something titled “America the Beautiful” seems like it would be more fitting for history class taught by the obnoxiously patriotic football coach than for Mrs. S’s psych class.

“Oh, this is a documentary on beauty standards in America. I thought maybe we could do eating disorders for a project? You know everyone else is going to be doing schizophrenia or antisocial personality disorder or major depressive disorder.”

“Sure. Eating disorders are fine.”

“Damn, Ev, maybe tone down your enthusiasm a little bit.”

Evan knocks his shoulder into Zoe’s—gently because he’s not in the mood to be murdered by Connor or by Zoe for accidentally hitting her too hard. He still has nightmares about the time Zoe pushed him out of a tree when they were thirteen because he punched her in the arm harder than she deemed acceptable. I mean, they weren’t more than six feet off the ground, but the angry look on Zoe’s face as he fell isn’t the type of thing a person can forget. “Eating disorders is a great topic. Our beauty standards are messed up.”

“No, Evan,” Zoe’s hand drops heavily on his shoulder, and Evan flinches at the unexpected physical contact. Zoe used to give him this sad look when he’d tense up over casual touches, but he hasn’t seen that look in years. He has the sneaking suspicion that his discomfort with physical affection still upsets her, she’s just gotten better at not showing it. “Our beauty standards are _fucked up_.”

Evan makes a face at the curse word.

“Come on, say it.”

“No thanks.”

“Just say it. ‘Our beauty standards are _fucked up._ ’”

“Our beauty standards are fudged up.”

“Close, but no cigar.”

“Are we going to watch the documentary or not?”

“We will. Once you say it.”

“Zoe—”

“Evan, we can do this all night. Literally.”

Evan frowns. Zoe doesn’t really let things go, and he _is_ staying the night, so, even if he convinces Zoe to move onto something else, she’s still going to make him say it at some point. Might as well get it over with, he thinks.

“Our beauty standards are fucked up.”

“Hell yeah they are!”

Then Zoe collapses face first onto her duvet because the arm she’s been using to prop herself up gave out while she was fondling Evan’s shoulder and convincing him to curse. Evan snorts.

“Don’t snort at me, Hansen. I’ll make you sleep on the floor.”

“I already have to sleep on the floor though?”

“Well, I won’t give you a pillow then.”

“You never give me a pillow.”

“I won’t give you a blanket.”

“Yeah, you usually don’t give me a blanket.”

“Ah, yeah, I forgot I’m a shitty friend. Oops.” Zoe gives Evan a goofy smile because she loves when he’s like this—calm and happy and comfortable with teasing. She rarely gets to see Happy Evan during the school year, so any glimpse of him makes her ridiculously happy. Evan smiles back. It’s small and lopsided and barely there, but it’s something.

“Okay, nerd. Settle in. I’m about to start the movie.” Zoe clicks the button to make the video go full screen while Evan drags one of her fluffy blankets up from where it’s fallen on the floor and drapes it over the both of them, keeping a few inches between the two of them. He knows that the space between them will be gone within a few minutes and Zoe will be pressed securely against his side and it’ll be okay.

Everything’s okay with Zoe around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!
> 
> feel free to hit me up at @jaredkleinmanisanerd on tumblr if you want me to write prompts or if you want to send me headcanons or anything really


	2. Evan Hansen Is a Worrier: A Novel by Zoe Murphy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh i didnt spellcheck thhs or anything i probs shouldnt be writing this late lmao
> 
> idk how to write connor. or evan. or anyone.
> 
> comments/kudos/crit much appreciated!

“Oh, uh—h-hey, Connor.”

Evan stands in the doorway of the Murphys’ kitchen, tugging at the hem of his shirt because he needs something to do with his hands because Connor’s watching him and it’s making him nervous. He looks tired, but Connor always looks tired these days. Zoe’s been complaining about him blasting music in the early hours of the morning for a few weeks, so there’s a strong possibility Connor hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in at least a month.

“Hansen.” Connor’s voice betrays his irritation at being caught in the kitchen after making a big show of saying he wasn’t hungry at dinnertime that day. Mrs. Murphy still made a plate for him and put it at Connor’s spot at the table, only giving up and covering it in tin foil and putting it in the fridge when she’d finished dishes and Mr. Murphy had retreated to his home office after he finished quizzing Evan about what colleges he was applying to. The plate is on the counter now, half the food gone, and Evan can’t help but feel a little relieved that Connor’s eating; he knows that Connor’s started skipping dinner and he never sees him in the cafeteria at lunch, so he’s probably not eating that, and all he grabs before leaving in the mornings is a random piece of fruit or a breakfast bar. Not that he’s paying, like, a _weird_ amount of attention to Connor’s eating habits. Zoe is like a sister to Evan, so that would make Connor kind of like a brother, and it’s totally normal to be concerned about the health of your pseudo-brother.

“Are you—are you okay?”

Connor gives Evan a hard look. “What the fuck do you think?”

“Well, I don’t—I’m not sure what to—I don’t know what to think, um, that’s why I, you know, asked.” Evan takes a step into the kitchen, and then another step, crossing over to the cabinets behind Connor to grab a glass, trying to seem nonchalant despite being a little…well, he wouldn’t say _scared_ , exactly. Evan knows how scary—or, maybe, how _concerning_ Connor has acted when his drugs have exasperated his already more-than-normal paranoia. Evan probably shouldn’t say “his drugs” because that makes it sounds kind of like Connor takes prescription drugs, but the stuff he takes isn’t prescription and he doesn’t swallow a pill so much as he smokes something. One time, when Zoe and Evan had a study hall and Zoe volunteered both of them for office help, he swears he saw Connor outside under the bleachers with one of those kids who even the biggest social outcasts know to be a dealer. To be honest, Evan felt better once he saw that because everyone knows the drug scene at school is pretty much limited to marijuana and Ritalin, which he thinks is better than the alternative because Evan’s stumbled upon Mr. Murphy’s pain medication for his back and Mrs. Murphy’s antidepressants and taking those seems way more dangerous than smoking pot, right? Anyways, Evan _knows_ Connor can be scary when he’s high, but he’s only been around to see that once or twice. He wasn’t there when Connor tried to kick down Zoe’s door, screaming all those awful things.

“I’m great, Evan. Feel free to tell my mom that. I know how much you two love to talk.”

The words aren’t hurtful. It’s the tone that makes Evan flinch hard enough that he narrowly avoids dropping his glass on the floor. Connor sounds angry, and Evan’s never been good around angry people.

“I don’t—we don’t—I don’t talk to your mom much, but I guess I can tell her if you want?” Evan’s voice sounds high-pitched and panicked and he wants to run up the staircase to Zoe’s room because Zoe’s room is _safe_. It’s the one place in the world that still gives Evan that childlike sense of being invincible. Out here, in the dark kitchen with Connor, Evan doesn’t feel particularly safe.

“Do whatever you want.” Connor scrapes the rest of the food off his plate into the trash can before running the water over the plate and dropping it in the sink, making it clatter loudly. Evan jumps at the loud noise, grabbing at the edge of the countertop to steady himself, turning his head to watch as Connor leaves the kitchen, disappearing into the darkness of the dining room.

Evan lets out a shaky breath and he feels—he feels guilty because Zoe and Mr. and Mrs. Murphy already treat Connor like some kind of criminal and the kids at school call him shit like “school shooter” and Evan’s starting to do it too, isn’t he? He’s treating Connor like he’s dangerous.

When Evan first became friends with Zoe, he remembers thinking that Connor was the absolute coolest person he’d ever met, aside from Zoe. Connor read the eighth graders’ assigned reading when he was in third grade, and Evan thought that was amazing because nobody else in Connor’s class could do that. Connor was _special_. He was also really good at drawing—whenever they put all the kids’ drawings up on the school walls to showcase their talent or whatever, Evan could pick out Connor’s because it was the best. Everyone else drew a bunch of random lines in different colored crayons, but Connor’s drawings looked like real stuff. He drew rabbits and flowers and robots and Evan thought it was awesome. One time, Zoe mentioned to Connor that Evan liked trees and Connor drew Evan the oak tree he always hid behind at recess when he got upset and Evan thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Plus, when the older kids would make fun of Evan for crying when he fell or would try to force Zoe off the swings, Connor would chase them away.

And Connor wasn’t just different in elementary school—he was still the old Connor in ninth grade. Connor never had a lot of friends, but he had a few his first year of high school. They were all English nerds who complained about their reading assignments being too easy and who corrected people when they said “I’m doing good” by saying “no, you’re doing _well_ ,” but they were better than nothing. He called Zoe and Evan babies even though they were only a year younger and he told them that high school was tough, but that they’d be fine. He assured Evan that high school is not like Degrassi made it seem, so, no, Evan, nobody is going to shoot you. Connor would still hang out with them and he’d still smile at Evan in that way that made Evan think that maybe Connor was infatuated with him too—or, if he wasn’t already, maybe he could be.

Things changed in the first semester of Connor’s sophomore year.

Evan remembers Connor ignoring him and Zoe when they’d ask him where rooms were and if they could eat lunch with him and his friends. He remembers Connor disappearing for hours every day after school, so Zoe and Evan had to go sit in the courtyard and wait for him to finish whatever he was doing because their parents didn’t want them walking home without Connor. He remembers Zoe waking him up in the middle of the night with a phone call, begging him to come over because Connor and her dad were screaming at each other and she was scared. He remembers leaving the house, walking in the dark to the Murphys’ house, and climbing up the big tree outside Zoe’s window. He remembers almost falling when he tried to get in her bedroom, but Zoe was there, hauling him in, crying because she was afraid. He remembers listening to Connor’s angry yells and Mr. Murphy’s roaring and holding Zoe and telling her it was going to be okay, telling her she could stay at his house for a while, promising her things would be okay again sometime soon.

Evan can’t say what exactly changed with Connor. He dropped his friends, he stopped walking Evan and Zoe home, he started skipping classes, and he started smoking pot. It was like, one day, there was this awesome guy that drew Evan tree pictures and smiled when he rambled on about tree facts and, the next, there was this broody, angry guy that scared his sister and Evan.

He went to rehab this past summer, but it didn’t take. He was clean for maybe a week, and he wasn’t the old Connor that week. Connor spent that week in his bed, not even getting up to shower or eat, and Evan was worried that whole week, nervous that he’d be woken up in the middle of the night by Zoe on the phone, telling him that Connor had—that Connor was gone.

Evan sets his glass aside, washing the plate Connor left in the sink properly and putting it in the dish washer. Then, he fills his glass with orange juice. No one in the Murphy family particularly likes orange juice, so Evan knows Mrs. Murphy always keeps some on hand just for him. It’s weird, sometimes, thinking about how the Murphys treat him like a member of the family. How they let him into their home nine years ago and how they’ve never once made him feel unwelcome since.

He climbs the stairs, juice in hand, thinking about Connor. He misses him, you know? He wishes Connor never changed. He wishes he knew why Connor changed. He wishes he knew what to do to—he doesn’t know, help him stop smoking pot? Help him stop fighting with his family? Help him get his shit together and apply to college? Help him move far away from his family because Evan can see that he’s not going to last much longer if he stays here? He doesn’t even know what would help Connor, at this point.

With one last, longing look thrown at Connor’s door, Evan slips back into Zoe’s room, hoping that maybe things will change for the better soon.

But Evan should have known that wouldn’t happen.

Nothing ever changes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why this ended ominously hope u enjoyed pls tell me if there are any big errors i did not proofread


	3. Evan Hansen Tries His Best: A Novel by Zoe Murphy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His arms are around Zoe—Zoe who hasn’t said a word since she gave him abridged version of things, Zoe who hasn’t cried once through this whole ordeal, Zoe who has her headphones on while she watches some vividly-colored cartoon on her phone, Zoe who hasn’t moved since she let her head fall on his shoulder like she couldn’t hold it up for another second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not proofread this again and i haven't slept in two days enjoy
> 
> thanks for all the comments/kudos, like you guys are awesome! I didn't think anyone was going to like this so I was pretty much planning on abandoning it right away, but since there seems to be an interest I think I'll post it whenever I don't feel up to writing another chapter of my other fic?

The exact details of what happened are lost on Evan.

He can’t remember much of what Zoe explained, and he’s not going to ask her to go through telling him a second time because he was too—too _something_ to really listen the first time. Too sad, too angry, too tired, maybe? Evan wasn’t sure what he felt when he got the news and he’s not sure what he’s feeling now, to be perfectly honest.

His arms are around Zoe—Zoe who hasn’t said a word since she gave him abridged version of things, Zoe who hasn’t cried once through this whole ordeal, Zoe who has her headphones on while she watches some vividly-colored cartoon on her phone, Zoe who hasn’t moved since she let her head fall on his shoulder like she couldn’t hold it up for another second.

Her parents are on the other side of the waiting room with Evan’s mom, waiting anxiously for someone to come tell them what’s going on. Waiting for someone to tell them whether they should start planning funeral arrangements or not.

Evan keeps his gaze forward, staring at a line on the wall across from him. It’s a lime green line that he suspects was put there with the help of one of the crayons laying on the coffee table in the hospital waiting room, free for kids to use to color in coloring books, on magazines, or on walls. He’s pretty sure the hospital staff don’t encourage drawing on the walls, but they probably prefer them wreaking havoc in the waiting room over having children under foot anywhere else in the building. Crayon marks are a small price to pay for keeping kids out of the way.

Once, when Evan was nine or ten, Mrs. Murphy’s car broke down and they had to have it towed to the nearest car dealership. His mother was working so she couldn’t come get him, so Evan got to stay with Zoe and Connor while the car got worked on. Mrs. Murphy had gone off to talk about repairs or trading the car in or something, leaving the kids alone in the waiting room under the watchful eye of the receptionist. Mrs. Murphy had given Connor a few crumpled dollar bills to use to get snacks for the three of them because it was nearing dinner time and Zoe could be quite the handful when she was hungry.

Connor wandered off to the vending machines and returned with a bag of Cheetos, a soda that they weren’t technically allowed to drink because their mom didn’t want them drinking caffeine but “what mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” and a melty chocolate bar. He split the chocolate bar into thirds unevenly, giving Evan the biggest piece and pretending to give Zoe the smallest before taking the smallest piece for himself. The chocolate got all over Evan’s face and hands, which made Connor laugh at him because Evan looked silly—he was smiling like a doofus because a) he got chocolate and b) Connor gave him the biggest piece which is practically a declaration of undying love for an eleven-year-old and he was covered in the goopy remains of the treat.

Connor left Zoe with the secretary, telling her to help herself to the Cheetos because she was the only one gross enough to like those, and led Evan to the men’s room, holding onto his wrist so Evan couldn’t wander off and get lost like he frequently did when they were little. In the bathroom, he wet a bunch of paper towels at the sink and scrubbed at Evan’s face and hands until he looked presentable. Evan remembers whining about how the paper towels were scratchy. Connor told him that he shouldn’t have been so messy if he didn’t want to rub scratchy paper towels all over his face.

When they left the restroom, they found Zoe standing in the hallway near the bathrooms, standing conspicuously in front of something on the wall, holding the now opened bag of Cheetos in hands drenched in cheese dust and spit.

Connor shoved her away from the wall and Zoe’s eyes filled with tears while Connor took in the two cheesy handprints on the wall of the car dealership.

That was the first time Evan ever saw Connor get genuinely upset with Zoe—he yelled at her for being so careless, threatening to tell their mother what she’d done, and tossed the half-full bag of Cheetos in the trash so Zoe couldn’t have any more before grabbing soapy paper towels from the men’s room and scrubbing at the cheese stains vigorously, grumbling angrily to himself. It came off pretty easily, but Connor stayed annoyed the whole way back to the waiting room, refusing to let Zoe have any of the soda until she started crying. Even then, Connor really only gave her some because he knew Evan would start crying if he didn’t shut Zoe up fast, and Connor didn’t need to get caught making them both cry. His parents would have taken away his TV privileges for sure.

Evan lets his eyes drift from the crayon mark, looking for something that won’t make him think about—stuff.

He sees a copy of Highlights magazine. Evan remembers being dragged along on doctors’ appointments and to dentists’ offices, thinking that Connor was the smartest person he ever met when he found all the differences between the two pictures in just a few minutes.

Evan turns his gaze to some gossip rag emblazoned with the newest celebrity couple and promising articles that will reveal the turmoil beneath their happy façade. Connor used to roll his eyes at Evan when he would see the younger boy eyeing them when they went to the corner store on the walk home to the Murphys’ house. Evan would always read the headlines curiously while Connor spent his allowance on candy that he would usually just give to Evan because Evan never really perfected the art of eating candy with grace and Connor thought he looked hilarious with chocolate all over his face.

He looks down at his shoes because something as innocuous as _shoes_ shouldn’t remind him of Connor, but of course they do. Evan remembers when Connor convinced Mrs. Murphy to buy Evan a pair of light up sneakers for his birthday one year because he’d seen Evan eyeing another kid’s light up shoes at recess a few times. The shoes were expensive, but Mrs. Murphy gave in after weeks of wheedling on Connor’s part and Evan remembers thinking he’d never gotten a better birthday present in his life.

When Connor got a pair of Heelys in middle school, he let Evan try them on and he stuffed socks in the toes of the shoes so they would fit Evan better. He refused to let Zoe within a five-foot radius of his Heelys, but he let Evan wear them whenever he wanted. Evan probably got more use out of those shoes than Connor did.

Evan wants to leave. He wants to walk out the hospital doors, get in his mom’s car, and go home. He wants to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow to find none of this happened—Connor is _fine_ , he’s just being his broody adolescent self. He’s not in some hospital room, having God knows what done to him because he did God knows what to himself. He’s not—he’s not _gone_. That’s not even a possibility.

But shit happened. There’s no getting around it.

You know what the last thing Evan said to Connor is? He’d seen Connor leaving school halfway through fourth period and he’d walked over to him, tugging on his backpack straps because, for all intents and purposes, Connor was a stranger to him now, and Evan’s not good at talking to strangers.

“Connor, where are—are you—what’s going on?” He stammered, trying to figure out how to ask a question and convey his concern without pissing Connor off.

“None of your fucking business, Evan.” Connor sighed, pausing in his trek to the doors to look over his shoulder at Evan, and Evan saw something on his face then, something that didn’t sit right with him. “Shouldn’t you be following my sister around, or something? Or does she not want to put up with your bullshit today?”

Evan tensed up. Connor knew how insecure he was about his friendship with Zoe—he knew Evan worried constantly about being too clingy and asking for too much from his friend and relying on her too heavily. When they were younger, he was the one convincing Evan that he didn’t need to worry; Zoe liked him, he liked him, Evan was doing his best and that’s all that mattered.

“I just—I wanted to see if you were alright. I’m worried about you, Connor.”

Connor made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, eyeing Evan with something like disdain. “I don’t think you need to be worried about anybody but yourself, Hansen.”

Evan stared at the scuffed floor. He couldn’t look at Connor—he didn’t want to see the look on his face. Zoe was right; Evan was being stupid, worrying about Connor. They’re not friends anymore. Maybe they never were. Maybe Connor just didn’t want to put up with Evan’s bullshit anymore.

“You’re right. Sorry for bothering you.” Evan spun around and scurried to his next class, not wanting Connor to see how much he hurt his feelings.

Evan tries not to think about how that could have been their last interaction. He tries not to think about all the things he should have done differently, all the things he could have done better.

He focuses his attention to watching the colorful visuals of Zoe’s show. Thinking and wishing and hoping isn’t going to do anything but upset him.

There’s nothing left to do now but wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what this is man
> 
> comments/kudos/crit always welcome! feel free to yell at me at @jaredkleinmanisanerd!


	4. Evan Hansen Is a Space Cadet: A Novel by Zoe Murphy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was kind of random—one second, Evan was smiling up at Connor, asking him if they could go to the park tomorrow or maybe the comic book store because the owner let him read all of they used comics because he had a crush on Evan’s mom. The next, Evan’s face was smushed up against Connor’s chest because Connor hit a growth spurt that summer, leaving Evan in the dust in the height department. By the time Evan realized he should probably hug Connor back, the other boy was stepping away from him, mumbling an embarrassed goodbye, and hopping back on his bike to ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what to say for myself, I'm procrastinating so here's a new chapter! thanks for all the support you guys!! it means a lot to me!
> 
> comments/kudos/crit always welcome!

It’s a quiet morning.

Evan is lying as still as he can in his bed because he doesn’t particularly want to get up and greet the day yet and because he doesn’t want to wake Zoe up. If there’s anybody who deserves to sleep in late today, it’s Zoe.

She’s curled up on the right side of the bed, hoarding his pillows and blankets because she’s a blanket hog on the best of days and a nightmare to share a bed with if you value your comfort on the worst. Today is leaning closer to one of her worst days, so her insatiable urge to surround herself with thick covers and prop herself up on a pile of Evan’s super firm pillows—because it’s hard to get comfortable when you just keep sinking into the pillows, don’t judge his pillow preference—is even stronger than normal. Evan counts himself lucky that he got to keep part of one of his sheets to drape over him last night. Ever since Jared showed him _Paranormal Activity_ , Evan hasn’t been able to sleep without something covering his feet. It’s kind of stupid—I mean, if an actual demon was going to grab his feet and drag him to hell, a blanket wouldn’t provide much protection. Unless it was, like, a holy blanket. Do churches bless blankets? Zoe told him once that one of her friends who went to the all girls’ Catholic school on the other side of town got her fish blessed at church, so Evan feels like blessing a blanket isn’t that much of a stretch, right?

He can hear his mom in the kitchen, trying—and failing—to keep quiet. He can hear her soft sigh as she puts on a pot of coffee to brew and sets her mug on the countertop, drumming her fingers against her laptop as she waits for it to turn on so she can check e-mail. Evan can smell burnt toast, so his mom is probably going to try to provide a breakfast of some sort to him and Zoe before they go face the music at school.

“Your family has a weird taste for charred food, Ev,” Zoe grumbles, rolling over in bed so she’s facing him. Her hair is a total rat’s nest; it’s like a halo of tangled yarn framing her face with random chunks sticking out in directions that seem to defy the laws of physics. She has some dried drool on the side of her face, which means Evan is going to have to wash his pillowcase _again_. Zoe’s always been a drool machine. She used to leave a puddle of drool on her mat at the end of naptime in kindergarten. Kind of hilarious, kind of adorable, kind of gross. Very Zoe.

“Says the girl who once ate a worm by choice.”

“Says the boy who ate grass.”

“Okay, the difference here is you wanted to see what a worm tasted like and then ate a worm whereas I fell on my face on a soccer field with my mouth open and _accidentally_ swallowed some grass and dirt.”

Zoe grimaces as she tries to figure out a way to respond to the cold hard truth. “Who says whereas in casual conversation?”

“People who are doing well in AP Language.”

“I maintain that English is a dead language,” Says the girl who has barely kept a B in the class that semester while Evan has been sitting on a high A.

“Oh my God,” Evan grumbles, exasperated, as Zoe chuckles and it’s nice. It’s better than the past two days of silence and skirting around each other, like maybe if they pretend hard enough life can just proceed as normal and they won’t have to deal with what’s going on. Zoe reaches over, grabbing Evan’s hand and picking at the chipped nail polish on his nails. Evan doesn’t particularly like having his nails painted—he chews on his nails a lot and he’s always worried he’s going to swallow a big paint chip and die, or something. Plus, he always picks at the polish until it comes off, so he leaves mounds of nail polish flecks in his wake wherever he goes. But he let Zoe do his nails on Friday because she needed something to occupy herself while they waited for Evan’s mom to tell them what exactly was going on. Mr. and Mrs. Murphy sent them home soon after they got an update on Connor’s condition from a doctor, promising that Heidi would explain everything once they were at Evan’s house.

According to his mom, Connor finally got into Mr. Murphy’s Celebrex—the pain medication Evan remembers seeing on the counter of the master bathroom when he went in there once. Mrs. Murphy was always careful to keep her Prozac locked up, and Evan remembers hearing her remind her husband to lock up his medication. Mr. Murphy would always wave her off, saying it would be pointless to have the pills if he had to get up and unlock the medicine cabinet to take them when he was in pain.

Evan’s mom didn’t provide the details of how Mrs. Murphy found him, but Evan got the gist of it from Zoe. There was a loud crash from Connor’s room, which wasn’t an immediate cause for concern because he’s been known to knock things over or throw things when he’s upset, but Zoe says Connor had been surprisingly calm that day at dinner, so they were a little shocked by the outburst. Mr. Murphy told them to leave it—giving Connor attention when he throws a hissy fit will just encourage him to keep doing it. Zoe went back to studying at the dining room table and her dad returned to highlighting things in a call record for one of his cases. Mrs. Murphy called up to Connor, said something along the lines of “Connor, sweetheart, are you alright?”

Zoe prepared herself for Connor screaming back at their mother, saying he was fine and could she just leave him the hell alone already, he came to dinner, didn’t he? But there was no response. Again, not odd for Connor; he has a habit of ignoring their mom when he’s not in the mood to deal with her love and concern. So, he ignores her most of the time.

Mrs. Murphy finished the dishes before going up to Connor’s room, hoping that he would have calmed down from whatever upset him enough to throw something by the time she went up to see him. Zoe heard her mother knocking on Connor’s door and then the quiet sound of the door knob turning. She was surprised when she heard the soft click of the door opening; Connor’s door was always locked. He was weirdly secretive about his room—he’d even started doing his own laundry so Mrs. Murphy wouldn’t come into his room to put away his clothing. While Zoe was waiting to hear Connor go off on their mom for barging into his room, she heard her mother scream.

The ambulance arrived not long after Mr. Murphy called 911. They wheeled Connor out of the house on a stretcher with an oxygen mask strapped to his face, quizzing a hysterical Mrs. Murphy on Connor’s medical history and asking him about what drugs he was on. Mr. Murphy got in the ambulance with Connor and the paramedics, throwing the car keys at Zoe and telling her to get her mom in the car and meet them at the hospital. Zoe called Evan the second they got to the hospital.

The ride to the hospital felt like forever.

The verdict from the doctors was that Connor’s going to be fine, physically at least. He had to have his stomach pumped and they were keeping him sedated because the few times he was conscious enough to do anything he acted aggressively—Evan thinks he heard Mrs. Murphy mention Connor hitting a nurse, but he’s not sure. Sounds like Connor, though.

“How are—how are you holding up today?” Evan asks, knowing that Zoe won’t want to answer but also knowing that his mother will ask her once they leave his room and all of their classmates will be asking her when they get to school, so it’s better to rip the Band-Aid off fast, or get the ball rolling, or whatever. Might as well get used to being asked that question.

“Well,” Zoe starts, leveling him with a contemplative look, “my older brother is currently in the hospital because he overdosed on my dad’s pain meds, which we’ve been telling my dad to lock up since Connor started smoking pot but he just never got around to being a good fucking parent, I guess. My brother got his stomach pumped which sounds fucking awful but seeing as the only other option at the time was death, I figure he got off pretty easy. Now, I have to go to school and deal with everybody asking about my family’s business because people are dicks who want to hear all about how my brother tried to commit suicide because that’s the most interesting thing to happen around here in months, and then I get to go see my aggressive prick of a brother after school today so I can listen to him tell my parents to fuck off until my mom makes me leave because she thinks he doesn’t need any more stress on him right now and me calling him on his bullshit is pretty stressful, apparently. So, you know, I’d say I’m feeling like a C minus, overall.”

“A C minus is really good, considering the circumstances,” Evan pauses. “I think.”

“I think a C minus is the best we can hope for right now.”

There’s a soft knock at the door and Evan’s mom pokes her head in, looking about as good as Zoe, which is to say, she looks awful. “Made you guys some eggs and toast. It’s on the table if you want any.”

“Thanks, Mrs. H.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” Evan’s mom hovers in the doorway, looking uncertain. Evan can practically see her trying to decide whether she should ask if Zoe’s doing alright or not. Surprisingly, Mrs. Hansen decides against it. “I’m going to head out now, but you guys text me if you need anything.”

“We will, mom. Have a good day at work.”

Mrs. Hansen smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I will. Love you, honey.”

“Love you too.”

Evan and Zoe sit silently in bed, listening to the front door open and close as his mom leaves for work. The house is quiet for a few minutes and it reminds Evan of the weeks over the summer Zoe was out of town for band camp. Jared was off at camp too, so Evan was completely alone when he wasn’t at the nearby national park for junior park ranger training. A few years ago, when Zoe and Jared were off at camp, Connor used to come over and they’d watch movies or just kind of coexist in the same location for a while. Connor would sit on one end of the couch, sketchpad in his lap, pencil gliding across the paper as he drew. Sometimes he’d draw trees, sometimes he’d draw birds, sometimes he’d draw characters from the movies they watched. Once, Evan caught a glimpse of a face that looked suspiciously like his own when he was looking over at Connor, but Connor never showed him that drawing and Evan never asked to see it. Just the knowledge that Connor might have drawn him once made him happy. You don’t draw people you dislike, you know? And Connor never drew any of his other friends, and he never drew Zoe.

Evan cherished those days when it was just the two of them; he could almost imagine that he and Connor were best friends and Connor was at his house because he liked him and not because Zoe begged him to keep Evan company while she was gone because he didn’t have any other friends. Sometimes it really seemed like Connor liked him—and sometimes it seemed like Connor _liked_ him.

Over one summer, when Evan was thirteen, Connor asked him to go see a movie with him. They rode into downtown on their bikes—well, it’s probably more accurate to say they rode downtown on Connor’s bikes, because Evan’s bike was one of Connor’s old bikes. Mrs. Hansen had grudgingly accepted the hand-me-down bicycle after Mrs. Murphy insisted that the bike would be thrown away if Evan didn’t take it, so he might as well get some use out of it.

Connor paid for Evan’s ticket even though Evan had saved up his allowance for the past few weeks in anticipation of an event such as this. He didn’t get much—about two dollars a week, give or take a few quartersHe also paid for snacks, which consisted of stale gummy bears and an Icee that contained more sugar than two teenage boys should be having in a few days, let alone in the span of two hours. They shared both, but Connor ended up letting Evan have most of it.

The movie was good—it was some animated thing Evan can’t remember the name of, but Connor laughed so hard at one part he was bent over clutching his sides and he looked the happiest Evan had ever seen him.

After the movie, they got ice cream, even though neither of them were particularly hungry. Evan agreed to go because he didn’t want the day to end yet—he didn’t want to go home and spend an evening alone in his quiet house, wondering whether Connor meant something when his hand brushed Evan’s on the arm rest or when he grabbed Evan’s hand when they were walking down the sidewalk. Connor’s hand was soft and a little damp, but Evan was more caught up on the fact that Connor was holding his hand than on Connor’s hands being sweaty.

Connor got a small cup of chocolate ice cream and Evan got a small cup of vanilla drowned in hot fudge and they shared, sticking their spoons in each other’s ice cream without worrying about germs or trading coodies. Zoe was still insisting at that point in time that coodies were real and that her brother had them, always intoning “living with coodies is a real struggle, Ev” like she was on one of those medication ads on TV.

Evan thought catching coodies wouldn’t be all that bad.

Connor spoke more on their day out than he ever had before with Evan, talking about books he liked and things he wanted to draw and places he wanted to go. He asked Evan a lot, too. He asked him what his favorite tree was, and did he like other plants or was it just trees, and did Evan have a favorite book, and wow Hansen does your entire life revolve around trees, I think you might have an addiction.

It felt like a date. It seemed like a date, based on Evan’s limited knowledge of dates. Zoe went on one with this annoying boy with a nasally voice and they saw some action movie and he tried to hold her hand but it was really gross and clammy so Zoe folded her arms so he couldn’t grab her hand again. That day felt like it lined up with Zoe’s description of her date, except it was fun and Evan would have let Connor hold his hand all day if he wanted.

After they rode their bikes back to Evan’s house, Connor hugged him. It was kind of random—one second, Evan was smiling up at Connor, asking him if they could go to the park tomorrow or maybe the comic book store because the owner let him read all of they used comics because he had a crush on Evan’s mom. The next, Evan’s face was smushed up against Connor’s chest because Connor hit a growth spurt that summer, leaving Evan in the dust in the height department. By the time Evan realized he should probably hug Connor back, the other boy was stepping away from him, mumbling an embarrassed goodbye, and hopping back on his bike to ride home.

“—yo, Evan, we’ve got to get moving if we’re going to make it to school on time.” Zoe’s face is suddenly much closer to his, and Evan jerks back so hard he falls off the bed, landing painfully on his side.

“ _Dude_ , what were you thinking about? You were so out of it!”

Evan scrambles up off the floor, muttering something about being worried about their pre-calculus test, avoiding his friend’s gaze. She doesn’t need him getting all worked up over Connor right now. Zoe’s the one who nearly lost a brother—Evan only almost lost an old friend who doesn’t even like him anymore, let alone _like_ him—and what does it even matter if Connor likes him or _likes_ him? Connor could have _died_ and Evan is over here, reminiscing about the good ol’ days and wishing they could get back to that instead of just being grateful Connor’s alive.

He’s such an asshole.

Zoe’s looking at Evan like she knows what he’s thinking and he feels too hot in his tiny room. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announces before she can say something, fleeing from his room like a bat out of hell.

This is going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> feel free to hit me up on @jaredkleinmanisanerd! I could post more stuff about Connor and Evan being friends as kids that won't fit in this story there if you want? or you could send me suggestions or headcanons!


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